


Cutting the Cruel Threads of Fate

by helloitskrisha



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Based on Achilles and Patroclus, Basically the Trojan War but with POTO characters, Greek Mythology AU, M/M, Non-graphic sexual assault/attempted rape, Prophecies, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Romance, Tragedy, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloitskrisha/pseuds/helloitskrisha
Summary: When Nadir, an exiled Persian prince, escapes to Greece, he does not expect to cross paths with the enigmatic masked son of a minor goddess. The Fates have brought the two royal-born outcasts together, but a prophecy and a great war threatens to break them apart.Erik is given a choice: to live in obscurity and be with the one he loves or die a legend.(PHAROGA GREEK MYTH AU based on the tale of Achilles and Patroclus -- written for a-partofthenarrative’s Once Upon Another Time Project and a fic gift for Flippedeclipse!)
Relationships: Erik | Phantom of the Opera/The Persian
Comments: 46
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flippedeclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flippedeclipse/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to my wonderful and ever-supportive phriend (and fellow Pharoga shipper XD) Flippedeclipse who introduced me to “The Song of Achilles” by Madeline Miller. I hope you enjoy this story, which has been a real labor of love for me. :’)  
> This will be a two-parter!
> 
> Content Warning: Non-graphic depictions of sexual assault/attempted rape and violence.

The walls of Troy stood tall and mighty, magnificent structures said to be blessed by the god Apollo himself. Nadir looked upon the city from afar, deep in thought. Inside those walls, there were many innocent men, women, and children. Souls whose lives would be cut short. 

All for a battle between two kings.

As a child, he never would’ve imagined that he would be looking upon the impenetrable city, standing alongside the full force of the Greek army and fighting for a country he was not even born in. Truthfully, Nadir can barely remember his home in Persia now. 

Whatever hurt and anger and regret he had once felt after his exile had long since ebbed away. He is a man now, and it was time to push the pains of his boyhood out of his mind. Once, he had wished that he could’ve done things differently, but he no longer entertained those thoughts.

After all, if he had never escaped to Greece, he would never have met Erik.

**…**

Nadir had grown up in a palace, a sheltered but stifled existence. As the fifth son of the Shah, he had all the comforts and luxuries that money could buy. All he truly wanted, however, was to be the kind of man that would make his father proud.

Unlike his older brothers, he preferred the company of books to swords. As the other boys practiced their fighting skills and play-acted at being legendary warriors, he would always spend his time reading and day-dreaming, studying the many plants and flowers in his mother’s garden. Much to his father's dismay.

He did not get along with his brothers, especially not Alborz, the Shah’s favorite son. Nadir always thought his older half-brother was an arrogant, air-headed brute. But his father loved the boy because of his strength and skill in combat.

Yes, Nadir had lived a charmed yet somehow empty life… until a single moment changed everything.

He had only been thirteen when he started noticing Rookheeya. She was a sweet, kind girl, the daughter of one of the Sultana’s servants. The girl had been his friend, the only one in the entire palace who seemed to truly understand him. They would sneak into the garden together and play. He would read her favorite books and listen as she told him stories in turn.

Upon Rookheeya’s thirteenth birthday, Nadir noticed that she had grown taller, her beautiful black hair had grown longer, and every day, she had started looking less like the girl he knew and more like a woman, a flower only now starting to bloom. 

In many subtle ways, she let him know that she wished to be one of his wives one day. He felt it in the way she gazed at him tenderly and held his hand as they walked through the garden.

Nadir wasn’t sure if he loved her in the way she hoped, but he thought, perhaps, being married to his best friend would not be the worst fate in the world.

Unfortunately, Alborz had noticed the changes in her as well.

One night, Nadir had been reading quietly in his room when he heard something out in the halls. 

The distinct sound of a body being slammed onto the cold, hard floor. A low, masculine groan.

Since Nadir had four older brothers, these noises were not unfamiliar to him. He was aware of what often went on in his siblings’ rooms at night. Many servant girls, after all, would feel honored to be bedded by one of the princes.

But what he heard next disturbed him to the core.

“Please. I do not want to. _I do not want to_ …” A crying, pleading, _familiar_ voice drew Nadir to run out of his room.

Upon seeing Alborz towering over Rookheeya, ripping her skirts as she wriggled away from him, the fury of a thousand suns arose within Nadir. He had never liked violence but his anger overpowered his entire being. 

He pushed his brother off of her, slamming his fist onto the other boy’s jaw. Alborz, being older and stronger, recovered from his shock quickly and was able to pin Nadir to the floor, landing punches on his face and chest. With all the strength he could muster, Nadir pushed Alborz off and ran away to the gardens. The other boy followed.

What happened next has somehow been excised from Nadir’s memory. As if his mind were trying to shield him from something he does not wish to remember. Sometimes, he can see vivid images, little reminders that what happened in the garden had been real and not a terrible nightmare as he had hoped.

A large rock. His brother’s lifeless body on the ground. The once-green grass bathed in red.

These images were all he remembered of that night, and, try as he might, he could not recall how it happened. He could not even remember if he felt saddened by his brother’s death. The moments before and after this scene blurred in his mind, leaving him numb with exhaustion.

The Shah had commanded for Nadir’s execution the next day. His mother cried and pleaded for mercy. “Shadow of God, spare my son’s life. He is only a boy, _only a boy_ …”

Rookheeya had begged for Nadir’s pardon as well, stating that he had only been defending her. But the Shah did not value the purity of one servant girl over the life of his favored son. 

Nadir was locked in a cold, dark dungeon the entire day.

Upon nightfall, his mother and Rookheeya found a way to open his cell and instructed him to leave Persia, to seek refuge in a faraway land where the wrath of the Shah cannot find him. He could not stop his tears as he embraced the two women and then walked away from the palace.

Away from the only home he had ever known.

.

Nadir does not remember how long he had been traveling, scrounging for food and shelter, relying only on the occasional kindness of strangers to keep him alive. He was a prince, not used to having to fend for himself. 

Much like a sailor lost in the open seas, he did not know where he was going and only let the waves of Fate determine his destination. And after what seemed like an eternity of solitude and living only for survival, he finally found a reprieve one day.

His thirst had been unbearable and, luckily, he found a river along the path he was following. As he splashed some of the cool water on his face and drank all he could, he heard something echoing through the trees. 

It was music. Strange, wonderful, beautiful music.

Enchanted by the sound, so different from the songs back in his homeland, he followed the melodies to its source. There, sitting in the grass, he saw a boy, plucking at a lyre, face upturned as if praying to the heavens. 

The boy was thin, pale, and tall, wearing a dark blue tunic and a similarly colored piece of cloth on his face. Nadir had never seen such a skeletal form on anyone. He should have been frightened by the strange sight and yet, where most would find disgust or even horror, he saw only beauty.

How those spidery fingers plucked at the lyre, coaxing such magnificent sounds from the instrument. How his dark hair reminded him of a starless night sky. How the boy’s peculiar yellow eyes gleamed like sunshine.

Nadir had many memories, some he would recall even to the present, some lost, faded as the winds of time flew by. But he would never forget this moment, of the first time he saw the strange, masked boy and his golden lyre.

As soon as the song was over, the boy turned to face him, seeming to look straight through him, analytical, discerning. Nadir did not know what to say, whether he should break the silence at all. Instead, he stares back, flushed yet defiant. Princely pride seemingly unforgotten despite his time as a vagrant.

“You are not from here,” the boy said. There was no malice in his tone, only a statement of observation.

Nadir nodded. He could only recognize some of the boy’s foreign words, those he had learned from his travels, but he understood the gist of the statement.

The boy stared at him again, seeming to consider his options. Nadir tried not to flinch from the intensity of his gaze.

Soon, the boy stood, clutching the lyre in his left arm. He nodded vaguely toward Nadir, never taking his eyes off him as he walked away from the stream and further into the woods. 

It felt like an invitation. And what else could a barely surviving foreign prince do but follow?

.

They lived at the foot of a mountain ( _Mount Pelion_ , Nadir was later told); two boys--not quite men yet--who relied on no one except each other. On the first few days of their unusual arrangement, silence was their only companion. They would communicate only through points and stares and hand gestures. 

Together, they would harvest the sweetest fruits from the trees and drink from the water of the streams. Everything then was simple, idyllic.

Soon, they would learn to speak each other’s language, sounding out simple syllables that turned to words and turned to sentences and turned to conversations. Nadir had difficulty learning Greek at first but was soon able to speak it fluently, though he was never able to soften the accent instilled in him from his mother tongue. The boy, on the other hand, was quick to master Farsi, and Nadir felt both jealousy and awe at his skill.

“What is your name?” The boy had asked in Nadir’s language as practice.

“My name is Nadir,” he replied in Greek, “what is yours?”

“I do not have one,” was the boy’s terse reply.

Nadir furrowed his brow. “Surely, you do. Everyone has a name.”

For the first time since they met, the boy seemed unconfident, unsure. “My mother gave me one and she said it would foretell my destiny. But it is a destiny I do not want, so I rejected it.”

Somehow, Nadir understood what the boy meant. He was not blind to the fact that his father had named him “Nadir,” a word which meant “ _lowest point_ ” and his brother “Alborz” was “ _the highest one_.” If he were told that his name would be his destiny, then he would have also rejected it, just as this boy has. 

An idea formed in Nadir’s mind, “Perhaps, you could give yourself a new name. Something that matches the destiny you want for yourself.”

For a time, the other boy only looked at him, but then a slight smile appeared on his thin, misshapen lips. “My name is Erik.” 

It meant “ _eternal_ _king_ ” and Nadir knew that this would be the boy’s future.

.

They taught each other everything they knew, and Erik knew a lot. He told Nadir that he had been trained by the Great Centaur Chiron, the being who had trained legendary Greek heroes like Heracles and Jason. Nadir would watch Erik often as he practiced his sword-fighting, how he moved so elegantly, fleet-footed and ever-graceful.

But nothing compared to the way he looked whenever he played his lyre. Nadir preferred to see him this way, immersed in his music, instead of imagining him flaying others with a sword.

Nadir, in turn, taught him about all the plants, herbs, and flowers surrounding them--which ones were poisonous, which could be eaten, which could be used for medicine.

They rarely spoke of their respective pasts, learning only bits and pieces of the other’s history. In the seclusion afforded to them by the mountains, it did not matter who they _were_. 

Here, they are only Nadir and Erik. And it was enough.

Time had become irrelevant in their little paradise; it was something both knew existed but neither ever really paid attention to. In Nadir’s eyes, the only definitive sign of the years that had passed were the changes he noticed on Erik’s form--his once thin frame now broadening, a wider chest and shoulders. Though he was still quite lean, muscles had started taking shape in those graceful arms. His voice--the very same voice that had always been beautiful to Nadir’s ears--had deepened, becoming even more elegant, blooming like ripened fruit.

Nadir did not feel much different, but as he looked upon his reflection in the waters, he was surprised to see that he had changed too. He had more hair now on his face, chest, arms, legs, and _elsewhere_. A flush crept into his face when his mind strayed and he wondered if Erik had hair there too.

The years had changed much but it had not diminished the strange pull Nadir felt toward Erik. 

Erik was not the easiest person to get along with, often moody and temperamental, sometimes needing plenty of time alone to think and play his music. But Nadir was drawn to him anyway as if Erik were the moon and he were the ocean. They would argue and make up, berate each other while willingly risking life and limb for the other. 

Their connection was a graceful dance, a push and pull of the tides. 

And Nadir could no longer ignore the forbidden emotions that had borne fruit within him, the shame he felt as he touched himself at night, imagining that pale, skeletal fingers were the ones stroking him instead of his own hand. 

He would hide far away from where Erik slept, but, upon returning, the other man would often ask him where he went. If Erik saw through his flushed cheeks and half-hearted lies, he never said so. But even Nadir could not pretend to ignore the intensity in those golden eyes.

.

One night, as they lay on the grass, gazing at the stars, Erik was the one to break the silence.

“Do you know why I wear a mask?”

Nadir did not know how to reply. He had often wondered why Erik never took off the mask in front of him. Though he was hurt that he had never even seen the face of the one he loved so dearly, he figured that there was a significant reason for his coverings.

“You don’t have to tell me if you do not wish to” was all he could say.

The masked man smiled. “I would not bring it up if I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Nadir turned his body to the side, facing Erik. “Why then?”

Erik continued gazing up at the stars. “Before I was born, my mother spoke to an oracle. She was told that she would give birth to a son who would be greater than his father, greater than any warrior in all of Greece… Imagine her disappointment when she looked at the face of her newborn child and saw nothing of the beautiful boy she had imagined.”

“What does it look like... your face, I mean?”

A small grin formed on Erik’s thin, misshapen lips. “Horrible.”

Nadir inched closer to him, feeling the warmth spread through his body. “It doesn’t matter. There is more to you than your face.”

At this statement, Erik only frowned. “Who am I then? If I am not fated to be a great warrior or even handsome like my poor mother had hoped, then who am I meant to be? I must have been created for a reason. The Fates must have kept me alive for some purpose. If not for the fulfillment of a prophecy, then _what_? Who am I?”

And on that night, the stars aligned just perfectly. Nadir knew the answer and the Fates seemed to nod their blessing. He pulled Erik closer to him, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“ _You are mine_.”

Suddenly, Erik’s lips were upon him, still tasting of the fig they had just shared. Nadir eagerly returned the kiss, hungrily drinking him in. Their hands wandered, exploring every inch of flesh that they could reach. Nadir does not remember which of them took his chiton off first, but as soon as they were exposed to each other’s fervent gaze, it didn’t matter.

Erik had told him of the _Moirai_ , the Fates, goddesses who assign destinies to each living being upon birth. They determined the fate of every mortal, each life a single thread that could be ended or preserved by the sharp shears of time. 

Though Nadir believed in an entirely different God than the ones Erik put his faith in, he conceded that maybe the Fates were not so bad. If they wove his and Erik’s threads together, forever entwining them in a delicate tapestry, then all of the hardships that came before and may come after will have been worth it.

Erik’s body was upon his now, and Nadir arched closer, desperate for his touch. Together, they found the perfect rhythm, grasping at each other’s length as the sky above them joined in their chorus.

And when it was finished, they lay next to each other, drunk on their love, sticky with sweat and the remnants of their satisfaction.

If Nadir could live in that moment forever, he would have done so. 

Alas, the Fates had woven a complex thread. One that was burdened with many knots.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave this story a chance. I appreciate and cherish all of you! Hope you like this next update. There will be one more chapter after this one!
> 
> A note on the names: Since this story is set in Ancient Greece, I opted to use the Greek variant of the character’s names (or, in one character’s case, I just made up a less French-sounding name ahaha). If you are ever confused about who the character is, see the author’s notes at the end. 
> 
> Thank you and happy reading! :D
> 
> (Special shout-out to Flippedeclipse for being the best beta ever!)

For the next few days, Erik was distant. He barely looked Nadir’s way even as they went through their usual routine, content to pretend that their passionate night together had not happened. 

The seeming rejection consumed Nadir’s thoughts but his pride was too great for him to succumb to despair. If Erik wanted to play pretend, then Nadir would follow along. Even if every fiber of his being screamed in agony. He would rather have Erik only as a friend than to never have him around at all.

The masked man started disappearing more often, creeping away from their cave stealthily, masterfully blending into the shadows of the night. Whenever Nadir asked Erik where he went, he simply replied “I had to speak to my mother,” and no more was said on the subject.

After days of this mysterious behavior, Nadir could stand it no longer. One night, after Erik thought he was already asleep, Nadir followed him. Though it was difficult for him to keep up with Erik’s cat-like strides, he moved as quietly as possible. Miraculously, he was able to follow without the other man suspecting anything.

Erik finally stopped at a stream. 

There, a tall, large figure stood waiting for him—a woman who seemed to be made of water. She had long hair, adorned with precious seashells, that flowed and rippled like waves. Her elegant silver chiton looked to be made of moonlight, and her eyes shone like large black pearls, making Nadir fear that he would get lost in those depths if he ever directly looked upon them. 

Though Nadir was awed by the scene in front of him, Erik looked up at the woman, unfazed and unintimidated by her otherworldly presence.

“Mother,” Erik said blankly, “you wished to speak with me again.”

“Have you made your choice?” she spoke, tone clipped and harsh like rocks grinding against the seafloor. 

“You only told me to hear what Prince Rhalon had to say, and I did as you asked.”

The woman's eyes became as blinding as the sun’s harsh glare. “ _You insolent boy!_ King Philippus and his army will be sailing to Troy in two days’ time. You cannot keep postponing your decision. This is your only chance to make a name for yourself, to become the legendary warrior you were destined to be.”

Erik grew silent, but still, he looked at his mother with defiant eyes.

She continued berating him. “Why do you hesitate? Is this not what you wanted? You had always been _so eager_ to please me. Now, a great war is coming and you are prophesied to be the one who turns the tides of the battle.”

“For a price,” Erik muttered.

“Yes,” she crooned, “my boy, there is _always_ a price to glory. But you will be a hero, the greatest warrior Greece has ever known. Your name will become a legend, stories of your victory will be passed on until the end of time!”

“But I will die,” he sighed.

“ _The bravest warrior will die for the glory of Greece_ , so says the prophecy. We still do not know if it is you. All we know is that you will be instrumental to the victory. King Philippus cannot win without you and that is why his brother keeps trying to change your mind.”

Erik looked down, seemingly thinking deeply about his mother’s words. Then, after some time, he spoke again. “If I must go to Troy, I will take him with me.”

Nadir’s heart leaped, beating a thousand times per second. He would have run to Erik then but he was afraid of what his mother would do once she saw that he had been spying on their conversation.

The goddess gave a look of obvious disgust. “He is no one. You are a demigod. Despite your _horrible_ visage, you still have the blood of the gods— _my_ blood—coursing through your veins. Why waste your time on a mortal?”

Erik stood tall and proud. “This is my only condition. I will go to Troy and be the soldier you wish for me to be. But _I will_ bring Nadir with me.”

She crossed her arms, eyes like piercing daggers, but saw that her son would not change his mind. “So be it.”

And then the goddess disappeared back into the waters. 

Once Erik was sure that his mother was gone, he spoke out loud, staring at the tree that Nadir had been hiding behind. “You can come out now.”

Nadir slowly poked his face out from behind the gnarled trunk. “You knew that I was here?”

A smile spread across Erik’s face. “You make a terrible spy.” 

.

As the two walked back to their cave, Erik talked about his past for the first time in years. His mother, Magdalini, was a sea goddess who looked down on mortals, seeing them as nothing but pawns in a battle between gods. 

When an oracle told her that her son would be greater than his father, the gods became afraid that a child born of her womb would take over Olympus, becoming stronger than Zeus himself. To ensure that this would not happen, they made her wed a mortal.

She despised her human husband Karolos, a king of Phthia, but she was excited for the birth of her son, the prophesied great hero of Greece. All of her hopes and expectations were dashed as soon as she looked upon the face of her newborn child. She cursed the gods, believing that they deliberately made her son hideous to spite her, and she named the boy “Achilles". _Pain_.

“This will be your destiny,” she had said to her son. “You have caused me pain and your existence will be nothing but pain until the end of your days.”

Magdalini made sure to never let any other being, whether man or god, see her son’s face. The first scrap of clothing she fashioned for him was a mask, and she let him believe that anyone who saw him without it would be turned to stone. 

It was purely by chance that he discovered that his mother’s words were a lie. He was only seven and the sun was beating down on him. He took his mask off for a while and drank water from a stream. 

A girl was walking by. She saw him and ran away screaming… but she did not turn to stone. 

Still, he put his mask on and never let anyone see his face again. He still vividly remembers the girl’s piercing screams. Ugly. Corpse. _Monster_. And as he looked upon his reflection in the waters, he believed that every word was true.

Nadir touched Erik’s shoulder as he told his story.

“It isn’t true. You are no monster.”

Erik did not look at him. “Ah, but I am. I was born to be a weapon for war, for a battle that is not even mine.”

“You don’t have to fight.”

“It is my destiny. The Fates have made it so.”

“Erik, you don’t have to. We can stay here. Together. Or we can run away, find a new land. Your destiny is what _you_ want it to be.”

“You don’t understand!”

Nadir looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Then help me understand.”

“If I don’t go, who will I be? _What_ will I be? I’m a masterful fighter. I was made for war and have a face that looks like death. What more could I possibly hope to be?”

 _Mine_ , Nadir again wanted to say. _You are mine, Erik, and I am yours. We will run away. I can be a healer and you an artist. We could have a life and grow old together, far away from prophecies and gods and wars._

Instead, Nadir said, “What do _you_ want to be?”

Erik was quiet for a moment, thinking deeply.

“I want… to do what I was born to do. I would rather die a legend than live wasting the gifts given to me by the gods. I can’t let my name fade into obscurity as though I had never existed. I want a legacy that eclipses even the greatest and noblest kings. Centuries from now, I want people to still be speaking my name. 

In war, my face won’t matter. They will fear and respect me for my skills. I will be a hero, not a masked monster.”

Nadir closed his eyes, trying to quell the sharp pain in his heart. When he opened his eyes again, Erik was looking straight at him, pleading for his reply.

“If that is your decision, then I will go with you.”

_Erik, if you are to die in that battle, then I want to spend every moment we have left by your side._

Nadir wanted to say the words but his tongue would not let him. Instead, he held Erik’s hand as they walked back to the cave. His touch seemed to make Erik’s yellow eyes shine brighter.

Behind them, the sun had begun to rise.

.

Two days later, Nadir and Erik left behind the mountain that they had come to see as home. They ventured out into the nearest port where Rhalon, the prince, brother of King Philippus, waited for them. As they boarded the ship, Erik hid himself away again to practice his swordsmanship, leaving Nadir behind with the other members of the King’s Greek army.

Most of the men seemed wary of him. After all, he was an outsider in their eyes, the exiled prince of a foreign land. Erik was the only reason he was even allowed on board. All knew of the prophecy, that Erik would be the hero to save them all, and so they could not refuse when he insisted that Nadir was to come with them.

The only one who seemed willing to speak with Nadir was the prince. Rhalon was a friendly and kind soul, eager to chat and share stories with everyone aboard the boat. 

“Prince Rhalon,” the others would address him with a bow.

He would clap them on the back, smile widely, and say, “Please just call me Rhal.”

Rhal filled Nadir in on the story of the oncoming war. King Philippus is married to Sorelle, gifted by the gods, a favorite of Aphrodite, and one of the most beautiful women in all of Greece. She is known for being a graceful, elegant dancer and the King fell in love with her the first time he watched her perform. Now, however, Rhal said that Sorelle was kidnapped by the Trojan king who had also been entranced by her beauty. 

When Nadir asked if they were sure that Queen Sorelle had not simply eloped with the Trojan of her own free will, Rhal furrowed his brow and said no more.

**…**

As Nadir looked upon the walled city of Troy, he could not help feeling despair and helplessness. The prophecy foretold that Erik would be instrumental to the battle and that “the bravest warrior” would die to bring victory to Greece. Though he tried to remain optimistic, to hope that a different soldier on their side would be dubbed “the bravest,” he couldn’t help feeling that his days with Erik were numbered.

He watched Erik closely, how the masked man seemed to bask in others’ praise. The other soldiers would practically stare at him, slack-jawed, whenever he trained in front of them. For the first time in Erik’s entire life, other people saw him the way Nadir always had. Elegant and majestic. Fleet-footed and graceful. 

Erik was right that the mask did not matter whenever he was fighting. He looked every bit like the demigod hero his mother had expected him to be.

For so long, Erik had yearned for the acceptance of others, for people to look beyond his mask and his otherness, for his mother to see him as a worthy son. Nadir could not take this away from him, could not stop him from choosing this path, even if it meant that they would never grow old together.

Instead, he savored those nights, those blissful moments when it was only the two of them in the warm cocoon of their tent. Nights of passionate kisses and gentle caresses. 

Nadir would see how the other men whispered about them and had told Erik that they should start sleeping apart.

“Let them whisper,” the masked man had responded, “I am giving my everything, my _life,_ for this battle. They cannot take _you_ away from me as well.”

.

The cacophony and chaos of battle overwhelmed Nadir’s senses—the weight of the spear in his hand, the revolting stench of spilled blood, the noise of a thousand war cries echoing in the scorched plains. Everywhere he turned, men would have swords through their chests or arrows on their back while the walled city still stood before them, impenetrable.

He could not kill anyone. Whenever he moved to strike an enemy, images of that night in the garden would flood his mind and he would recoil as if his hand had been struck by lightning. Only defensive instincts and adrenaline and Erik’s protection had kept him alive thus far.

Erik was thriving, fully embracing his role as the hero who would turn the tides of battle. Trojans quake in fear of his armor, the demigod who had already vanquished hundreds of their soldiers so swiftly and effortlessly. 

He made battle look like an art form, always so precise and elegant in his movements as he impaled men with his spear and sliced through them with his sword. He was a lion, a predator finally in his natural habitat.

All the soldiers, both Trojan and Greek, had started calling him “The Angel of Death,” and Erik relished his newfound fame. Nadir, however, longed for the days when everything was peaceful, longed for the quiet, masked boy he met so long ago. 

The boy who would juggle fruits and make them disappear before Nadir’s eyes. The boy who could throw his voice, making it look as though flowers were singing all around them. The boy who would play his lyre every day.

They were men now and Nadir knew that he would have to push his childhood nostalgia aside. But he cannot help the stinging pain in his heart whenever he sees the golden lyre that now stood, gathering dust, in a dark corner of their tent.

.

Despite their failure to infiltrate the walled city of Troy, the Greek army celebrated many victories. They had taken over all the villages outside the walls, and, thanks to Erik’s considerable gifts, many of the more famous Trojan soldiers had already fallen.

All of the Greek men looked up to Erik, often asking him to train them and teach them his secrets. Even Rhal had started deferring to him whenever battle strategies were discussed. Erik was not yet quite comfortable being around all of these other people, having lived alone for a significant portion of his life, but his enigmatic, secretive nature made him even more alluring to everyone around him.

This angered King Philippus who felt that the men respected and trusted Erik’s leadership over his own. Overcome with jealousy, the king made a decision—one that he would come to regret someday.

As the men gathered around and feasted on the meat and wine they had raided from the outer villages, King Philippus called for a toast. 

“My good men, I must commend every one of you for your bravery and loyalty to Greece and your king. In these past few months, we have lost a few good soldiers but their sacrifice will not be in vain. Soon, we will ram down the walls of Troy, save Queen Sorelle, and you will all be back home with your families.”

A round of cheers echoed in the night air. But King Philippus held up his hand, silencing everyone. “Our victory is all but assured. And there is one man who deserves the most credit.”

Everyone turned to look at Erik. Rhal smiled at him, raising his wine glass in the air, and nodded. With all the eyes on him, Erik slinked back in discomfort. A smirk grew on King Philippus’ face.

“Come now, don’t be so modest. Stand up, our great demigod warrior, the _hero who shall turn the tides of battle_. Stand up and come here so you may claim your prize.”

Nadir squeezed Erik’s hand in reassurance. The masked man stood hesitantly, but he walked proudly, elegant like the demigod prince he was born to be, as he made his way to King Philippus’ side.

The King gestured toward the Trojan women, the ones their soldiers had abducted from the outer villages, “Since you are our great hero, you get first pick of the women.”

The soldiers, except for Rhal and Nadir, cheered. Erik’s lips contorted into a sneer. Through gritted teeth, he said, “You are generous, but I must decline this gift.”

“Come now,” Philippus insisted, “You must like one of them. How about this one? She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” He said as he grabbed a girl by the arm and pushed her toward him.

The girl was on her knees in front of Erik, head bowed and whole body shaking. “No. Please kill me instead _,_ ” she pleaded.

The tension in the air was palpable. Everyone held his breath in anticipation of what Erik would do. None of the other soldiers truly knew him enough to understand the expressions behind his mask, but Nadir could feel his anguish even from far away.

He glared at the king, “Again, I must decline.”

“Why is that?” Philippus asked, “This is a war. There is no need to feign nobility. All men have needs… That is, if you _are_ a man.”

Nadir had never seen such pure rage in Erik’s expression and he feared what he would do.

Rhal stood before either of them could make a move, “Philippus, this is enough. He doesn’t want the girl.”

But the stubborn king was blinded by pride and refused to hear his brother’s words. Philippus continued taunting Erik. “Why won’t you accept my most generous gift? You know, a king usually gets first pick of the spoils of war but instead, I’m letting _you_ choose. What’s wrong? _Should I have gotten you a boy instead_?”

Erik turned and began walking away, “I will not stand for this disrespect any longer.”

“Or perhaps it’s the mask that’s the problem,” Philippus continued and Erik paused, “What are you hiding under there? _What respectable hero hides his face_?” 

Erik balled his fists. It felt like everything was crumbling around him. The respect he had fought so hard to earn, the sacrifice he has made to even join this war. It all meant nothing. He was still not a hero in the eyes of these men. 

The soldiers were quiet as they awaited Erik’s response. Nadir wanted to reach out and grab him before he could make any hasty decisions, but it was too late.

Erik turned to the king, “You wish to see it so badly? THEN LOOK AT IT!” He tore the mask off his face and watched as Philippus recoiled from the sight. Audible gasps of horror punctured the stunned silence. The crowd seemed to grow restless, many turned away while others stared at him with pity. 

It was Nadir’s first time seeing his face too. He had often pleaded with Erik to take the mask off in the privacy of their tent, but Erik always refused. Nadir did not want to force him to do something he did not wish to do, no matter how much it pained him to not be able to look at the face of the man he loved.

He looked now, and it was as horrible as Erik had described. Like staring at Death itself. Sunken eyes, skin so thin that it was almost transparent, and worst of all, a large crevasse where a nose should have been.

Nadir did not know if the expression on his face betrayed him, if he looked as horrified as Philippus and all the other soldiers, but the pain and hurt in Erik’s eyes were unmistakable. He longed to reach for Erik, to pull him into an embrace, but the other man briskly walked away. 

Nadir followed. “Erik! Erik, wait!”

Still clutching his mask in his hand, Erik did not turn to look at Nadir or stop walking. “Why are you here? It is unwise to be in my company right now.”

“I was only _surprised_ , Erik…”

“Stay back! Do not follow me!”

“Anywhere you go, I go. This changes nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Erik sneered, “I saw how horrified you were by what you saw. Don’t pretend that you weren’t afraid.”

Nadir tried to reach for him but thought better than to overwhelm him while he was in such an emotional state. “Forgive me, I’m only a man. I did not intend to hurt you. I was surprised, that’s all. Erik, please…”

Erik paused, but still did not turn around to face him. Nadir could see the tension in his muscles, the way he balled his fists as though waiting to strike an invisible enemy. “You would still have me even after you’ve seen it?”

Nadir placed a hand on his shoulder but Erik shied away from him. “You are still mine and I yours. That is, if you will still have _me_.”

At this, the demigod finally turned and held Nadir, letting his tears fall freely. All the tension and fear seemed to ebb away at that moment, and Nadir could feel Erik melting into his embrace. 

After a moment of silence, of holding each other under the stars and professing their love through the gentlest of touches, Erik spoke again, his tone firm and powerful but barely above a whisper.

“Damn them all. I’m done fighting in their war.”

Nadir’s heart stopped. For so long, he had wished for Erik to stop fighting, for the two of them to simply run away together and start new, ordinary, uneventful lives. But he also knew what would happen if Erik refused to join the battle. The Greek army would lose, and Erik will no longer get another chance to become the hero he always wanted to be. He would live as a mortal for the rest of his days.

“They would lose without you,” Nadir spoke softly, holding Erik as though he were afraid that he would suddenly disappear into thin air.

Erik looked out onto the distance, gazing at the walled city from afar. 

“Then let them lose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the changed character names:  
> Magdalini = Madeleine (Erik’s mother in the Kay novel)  
> Karolos = Charles (the name of Erik’s father in the Kay novel)  
> Rhalon/Rhal = Raoul de Chagny  
> Philippus = Philippe de Chagny  
> Sorelle = La Sorelli


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who is following along with this story. One more chapter after this one (this thing just keeps getting longer and longer the more I write it XD). I hope you enjoy this next update! Please do let me know what you think! Your feedback means the world to me :')

Nadir and Erik made camp further away from the walled city, finding the perfect, most secluded spot in the woods near the outer villages. They were content to leave everything behind, bringing along so few possessions as they turned their backs on the Greek army.

No one stopped them. Not even Rhal dared to convince them to stay, no matter how much it seemed that he wanted to.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, it was only the two of them. No wars to win or prophecies to fulfill. 

Together, they would watch the stars at night, bathe in the river, collect berries. Much to Nadir’s delight, Erik started making music again. Every morning, he would wake up to the most transcendent melodies, and the songs would accompany him even at night, bringing him peaceful dreams.

Now far away from others' watchful eyes, they could more freely express their love. Simple shows of affection they couldn't do in front of the other soldiers quickly became commonplace. How liberating it felt for him to be able to kiss Erik in broad daylight!

Once again, they were Nadir and Erik, just as they were back in the mountains. Two men whose paradise consisted of nothing except each other.

Although Nadir was happy to have Erik all to himself again, a part of him felt great guilt and sadness whenever stories of what happened on the battlefield reached their little camp. Erik’s mother visited them frequently, relaying news and expressing her rage and disappointment.

The Fates had been right. Without Erik in the fight, the Greek army faltered, fumbling like a babe still learning to walk. 

Their forces were overwhelmed, and, every day, more and more of their men died at the hands of the Trojans. The death toll was so numerous that, unlike before, their slain soldiers could no longer be afforded proper burials. Bodies were stacked against one another in a heaping pile that was burnt to ashes as soon as the sun set. 

Though Nadir could not play the lyre as well as Erik, he would attempt a requiem for each man that had fallen. He knew all of their names, having fought alongside them once. And they had come to respect him even though they did not initially see him as one of them. 

Many who had perished were only boys, much younger than he. Nadir would think about whether those soldiers had families who were waiting for them back home, parents, or perhaps even a wife and children. 

As he went to sleep at night, he would recite all of their names in his head like a prayer. And he would hope that, whatever afterlife they found themselves in, they were at peace.

.

It felt as though the gods themselves had chosen a side in the war. The Trojan army seemed to be constantly blessed with new armories, new weapons, new soldiers. 

With their numbers dwindling significantly, King Philippus feared the worst. Swallowing his pride, he sent his brother to convince Erik to rejoin the fight.

When Rhalon had arrived at Erik and Nadir’s little camp, he was his usual charming and friendly self, but Nadir had noticed that he seemed older somehow. The prince’s once-youthful face was now riddled with frown lines and forehead creases, and even his demeanor seemed different, more jaded. Rhal’s attempts at lightening the mood with friendly banter could not puncture the tension and melancholy that hung in the air, forever stained with the blood of their fallen soldiers.

“And you will be properly compensated, of course,” Rhal said, “Anything you want, you can have it! King Philippus asks you only to come back and fight for Greece. And you will be, once again, a hero in the eyes of men and of the gods.”

Erik kept his expression blank as he listened to Rhal. After a moment of tense silence, he finally spoke, “What I want is an apology from the king himself.”

Rhal gave his most sincere smile, “I apologize on behalf of my brother. He is a prideful man, not used to sharing the glory. But he truly did not mean for things to end the way it had.”

“If he were truly regretful, he would be saying these words to my face,” Erik replied curtly.

Rhal’s smile faded, “There are many things my brother and I do not agree on, and I sincerely apologize for the way he disrespected you. I must ask you now, as a man, a soldier, and a fellow Greek, we need you. You are prophesied to be the one who turns the tides of battle. If you do not fight, more of our men will die.” 

“And the men will know that it is their king who doomed them to their fate,” Erik said coldly.

Rhal looked now to Nadir, sadness etched in his features, a silent plea in his eyes, “I have a woman waiting for me back in Greece. My beautiful Kristine, the girl I’ve loved since childhood. I promised her that she would have the wedding of her dreams as soon as I return from the battle. Please… I… I want to be able to go back home to her and keep my promise.”

Erik’s eyes softened at the young man’s plea, but he did not go back on his word. “Then tell your brother to come here and face me himself.”

Nadir bristled at his words, “Please, Erik, at least consider his offer.”

Erik turned away from both men, “Unless Philippus comes here, _on his knee_ s, begging for my forgiveness, I will _not_ fight in his war.”

Rhal stood and nodded, “Then the men will know that their hero has forsaken them. _This_ will be your legacy. Farewell, Erik.” And with that, the young prince left.

Neither Erik nor Nadir spoke a word after Rhal was gone. The silence was deafening, _suffocating_. Nadir opened his mouth to speak but his voice came out weak, as though it physically pained him to be speaking those words.

"I think you should fight."

Erik did not look his way, keeping his expression as blank as possible. But the tension in his body was undeniable. "I've already made my decision. We need no longer speak of this."

"But Erik…"

"But what?! Are you on _their_ side now?"

“This isn’t about sides!”

“Then, _what_? What is it about? You weren't even born in this damned country! Why do you care whether the Greeks win or not? You and I both know that it’s a pointless war. We don’t even know if Queen Sorelle needs or _wants_ saving!” Erik said as he stood and started pacing the tent frantically.

Nadir was silent for a while, trying to put into words the complicated emotions that have bubbled up inside him. Why _did_ he care? Didn’t he want Erik to stay out of the war in the first place? What had changed?

He supposed that he felt different because he had become directly involved in the fight. No longer did he see the war as something abstract, only an imagined hurdle to his and Erik’s future. He had fought alongside those men, shared in their struggles. But was that truly what he wanted? To risk Erik’s life for others’ sake?

Finally, a realization struck him. “Erik, if you truly no longer wish to fight, then why are we still here camping in the woods near the outer villages? Why don’t we leave this place, leave Troy, leave Greece for good?”

Erik snorted, “Philippus is getting desperate. He’ll be here begging me to come back any day now.”

“Then you _still_ want to fight! You’re only letting your pride stand in the way. You are letting countless men die for the sake of this senseless grudge match with Philippus. He already sent his brother, offered you gold and treasure, and everything a man could want!”

“You saw the way he mocked me, practically goaded me into making a fool of myself in front of all his men! How could you say that this is only about pride? This is about me being treated as inhuman all my life! Is it truly so wrong for me to want respect?!” 

Erik’s entire body shook with rage as he turned away from Nadir. The Persian moved closer but kept a respectable distance between them. His tone softened as he spoke again.

“Of course, you deserve respect. Erik, you are… a complicated man, but I know there is good in you. I’ve seen it. I’ve always seen the beauty in you, even when no one else did.”

Erik was silent, shoulders and muscles tense like a tightly wound coil. 

Nadir continued speaking, “What Philippus did was terrible, but the other men… some of them are only boys, Erik, and they deserve better too. You were prophesied to turn the tides of battle, and this is your time. You can end this war for good. You can stop the bloodshed and finally be the hero you wanted to be.”

At this, Erik turned to him and sneered, “I _will_ be a hero… but not until Philippus kisses the soles of my feet and begs me to win his war.”

Rage and frustration erupted in Nadir’s heart. “For once, _just once_ , could you think about the welfare of anyone besides yourself?!”

“My decision is final and I don’t want or _need_ your opinion!” Erik bellowed as he stormed off, slamming his fist onto a nearby tree before briskly walking away.

.

Nadir kept his distance, straying far from their camp, looking for a way to clear his mind and soothe the pain in his heart. He sat by the river and simply stared at his reflection in the waters. So much has changed between him and Erik. A part of him wishes that he made a different choice when he was told of the prophecy.

He should have fought harder for their future. They should have run then and there, turned away from the war and never looked back. Perhaps, in a different lifetime, they could have lived a normal, peaceful life together.

But then Erik might have resented him for not letting him live out his full potential, for keeping him from his destiny as a hero. No, he could never take that away from him. Despite everything, he could never be so selfish when it came to Erik. 

Nadir’s thoughts were interrupted when a figure arose from the water, towering over him, nearly blinding him with the intensity of her gaze.

“Magdalini,” Nadir quickly bowed his head and kneeled on the ground, averting his eyes from hers.

“Stand, mortal. There is no need for false courtesies.”

“Of course,” Nadir stood but still did not meet her eyes, “Are you here to speak with Erik again? I’ll get him.”

“No!” She replied harshly before quickly softening her tone, “...He does not know that I’m here. I was waiting for _you_.”

Nadir stayed silent. She had always refused to acknowledge his presence in Erik’s life, but now she wished to speak with him?

“I need you to change his mind,” she said begrudgingly, almost like an admission of defeat, “He won’t listen to me, but _you_ … he would do anything for you.”

At this, Nadir scoffed, “I can’t change his mind. I’ve already tried! Once Erik makes a decision, nothing and no one can stand in his way.”

The goddess cocked her head and smiled coyly, “You truly do not see the profound influence you have on him? I’ve always _hated_ you for it. You, a mortal having such sway over my demigod son’s life decisions.”

She paused for a while, as though waiting for him to confirm or deny her statement, but when Nadir did not reply, she continued speaking. 

“When my Achilles was a boy, all he wanted was to please me, to fulfill the prophecy and be the great warrior he was meant to be... Then, you came along. You filled his mind with ideas about becoming ordinary, _mortal_. I knew he was tempted to run away with you that night. He would have given up everything we worked for if you had just asked him to. _Can’t you see?_ You had even convinced him to change his name! How could you not see this power you have over him?”

Nadir kept quiet as he took in everything Magdalini had said. He had always seen himself as the submissive one, the one who always made sacrifices for Erik’s sake, the one who would follow him to the ends of the earth. Would his demigod lover have given up everything that night if he had simply asked?

He looked up at her with renewed confidence and spoke softly, “If what you say is true, then why should I change his mind about the war? I had chosen to be selfless that night, to give up my future with Erik so that he could fulfill this dream that you had so long ago instilled in his mind. What if I simply choose to be selfish now? What if I convince him to run away with me instead?”

She gave a noise of displeasure but tried to keep her tone even as she spoke, “If you convince him to run away, he will regret it. He will forever be known as the warrior who ran from the battle when he knew that he was destined to stop it. The blood of all the fallen Greeks will be laid at his feet. 

He is a demigod, so he will outlive you. You may have a few more years of happiness with him, but, when you die, he’ll be alone for decades more, once again an outcast, a reviled monster, in the eyes of men and the gods. Is that the legacy, the _life_ , you want for him?”

Nadir opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

Magdalini smiled smugly at his silence and forlorn expression, but he could see that there was sadness in her eyes too, “You believe that I don’t care for him… I didn’t make him wear a mask for my sake but his. The gods have made him hideous and the mortals have rejected him because of it. He deserves to be remembered for _much more_ than that.”

The goddess disappeared back into the waters, leaving Nadir alone with his despair.

.

The sky was already dark when Nadir returned to the camp. He had expected that Erik wouldn’t be there because he usually needed a lot of alone time after their fights. But as soon as he arrived, he saw the masked man standing outside their tent waiting for him.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Nadir.”

He sighed, “I don’t want to fight with you either, but…”

“You don’t have to say anymore,” Erik interrupted, “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to wait for Philippus to beg me to come back. Let’s leave Troy, leave Greece.”

“ _What?_ ” Nadir’s mouth suddenly felt dry.

“You were right… We should’ve left sooner. It was only my pride, my desire to be a hero, that kept me tethered to this wretched place. I had a lot of time today to think about what I want, and I know now that you’re all I need.”

“Erik…”

“Say that you need me too, Nadir. Say that you want to leave it all behind. Anywhere you go, I’ll go. Say the word, that’s all I ask.”

When Nadir only stared in stunned silence, Erik moved closer, desperation clear in his expression, “Please say something.”

Nadir’s mind was racing. He could no longer tell right from wrong, logic from instinct. Magdalini’s words were still fresh in his mind, but Erik’s offer sounded so tempting. Why _couldn’t_ they just run? Why did they have to follow this predetermined fate that neither of them asked for? 

But he did not say these thoughts out loud. Only one thing was clear in his mind, and the words slipped out of him with an ease that he wasn’t expecting.

“I love you, Erik.”

Nadir closed the gap between them, pulling a stunned Erik’s body closer to his. Their lips met, and it felt as though all was right in the world. Erik wasted no time in deepening the kiss, exploring Nadir’s mouth with his lips, teeth, and tongue. Passionate, insistent, _desperate_. As though the world around them is crumbling and only Nadir’s body kept him anchored to the ground.

The two men entered their tent in a dizzy haze, both rather unwilling to let go of the other even as they walked inside. This was a familiar dance, movements they’ve practiced and refined together for so long. But the familiarity did not reduce the intensity of their desire, the _urgency_ of their need. 

Erik had a hungry look in his eyes as he reached underneath Nadir’s chiton and began stroking, relishing the feeling of him hardening in his hand. Nadir pushed him off, and, for a moment, Erik wondered if Nadir had finally had enough of him, suddenly realizing that he loved a monster. But the Persian only knelt, a knowing smirk on his face, as he reached for Erik’s manhood and claimed it with his mouth.

The pleasure was almost too much for Erik to bear and a deep moan sounded from his lips as the other man continued licking and sucking at his sensitive flesh. Overcome with desire, he frantically bucked his hips into Nadir’s mouth as he reached his climax.

He loved this man. Oh, how deeply he loved him! No one, not even the Fates, could keep him from being with Nadir. Tomorrow, they would run away and start a new life together, Erik was sure of it!

As Nadir stood, grinning at him, Erik smirked back and knelt, eager to return the favor.

.

“ _I love you, Nadir._ ” 

Erik had whispered these words in his ear as they lay together, holding each other in the dark. Nadir tried to enjoy the sensation of being held by the man he loved, but so many worries plagued his mind. In the morning, he and Erik would finally run away.

_“We can leave this place and be whatever we want to be! Think of it, Nadir. We would be free!”_

This was what he wanted all along, wasn’t it? Then, why did he feel so confused? Why did the idea of them leaving no longer seem like the right option?

He remembered what Magdalini had said. That Erik would outlive him and spend the rest of his life alone, an outcast, a monster.

_“Is that the legacy, the life, you want for him?”_

These words replayed in Nadir’s mind over and over, driving him mad with guilt. He could not bear the idea of Erik giving up everything, giving his chance to be a hero just for him, and then see him regret it all in the end.

He loved Erik more than anything in the world, and he would do anything to ensure that Erik would have the life he deserved… even if that life didn’t include him. 

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind. Although he didn’t want to betray Erik in this way, it was the only path forward he could see. After checking and making sure that his beloved was sound asleep, he walked to the chest where Erik kept his armor.

The sturdy cuirass, along with the helmet that covered his entire face, is painted black like the night sky, and the breastplate was imbued with flecks of gold, a reminder of the _ichor_ , the blood of the gods, that flow in his veins. Much like the man who used it, the armor was intimidating, beautiful in the most unusual way. 

Erik had made it himself, designed it precisely to strike fear in the hearts of the enemy. Nadir had seen Erik in this armor countless times, and he could still imagine his blood-red cape flowing so elegantly in the wind as he stood on the battlefield. 

Nadir snuck out of the tent, bringing along nothing but the clothes on his back and the stolen armor. Sparing one more glance at Erik’s sleeping form, he felt great guilt emboldened to go. He forged ahead, away from their little camp in the woods and back toward the clearing where the Greek army stayed.

.

The night sky was slowly making way for the dawn when Nadir arrived at the Greek army’s camp. He tried his best to navigate the camp stealthily. There was only one man he could trust to help him, and, for his plan to work, it was important that no one else would see him approaching.

Nadir found Rhal’s tent easily and slipped inside as quietly as he could. The young prince was already awake when he entered and he almost yelped upon seeing the intruder. Thinking quickly, Nadir was able to cover Rhal’s mouth before any sound could come out.

“Please. Don’t scream. I know a way for us to both get what we need if you’ll only help me.”

Nadir showed him the armor, and understanding seemed to dawn on Rhal’s face.

.

Rhal listened as Nadir explained what he hoped to accomplish. To the Greek men, Erik had become a symbol of hope, a figure they looked up to in times of despair. But ever since he refused to fight and as their numbers slowly dwindled, the men began to lose the will to fight. What was the point of going on if the one who was prophesied to turn the tides of battle would never come?

Nadir would join the battle wearing Erik’s armor. Seeing that symbol of hope would embolden the Greeks to fight again, believing that their savior had come to change their fate. The Trojans would see the armor, remember the legendary hero that had slain so many of their soldiers, and flee in fear.

And so, Rhal helped Nadir put on the stolen armor and helped cover his exposed skin in white clay to match the demigod’s complexion. When Rhal brought up the issue of Nadir and Erik’s height difference, Nadir came up with the idea to ride a chariot into battle so that it wouldn’t be as noticeable. 

“But… could you even fight? I’ve never even seen you kill anyone before.” Rhal said, concern clear in his eyes, “The Trojans would target you and could easily take you down if you don’t fight back.”

“I have killed once,” Nadir said softly, “Someone I love was being threatened, and my instincts took over for me. To tell you the truth, I do not want any more blood on my hands, but I could do it. For love.”

There was a grim expression in Rhal’s face but he nodded and patted Nadir on the back.

“You are truly the bravest warrior I have ever known, Nadir.”


End file.
